Shattered
by DominionMalfoy
Summary: He broke me, again and again, leaving nothing but pieces of my once hollow heart / Dramione through Pansy's eyes


**A/N: I kind of got fed up with Dramione fics where Pansy is shown as a total bitch so, here it is! My little angsty twist of the story, following the books as much as possible.**

 **Enjoy!**

It hurt. That's all I can say to sum up everything that happened. Seeing him, touching him, hell, even kissing him - none of it mattered. Not when I knew that he couldn't care less.

I loved Draco. For years, he was the only one I envisioned myself with, the only one I considered worthy enough to be by my side. And that was actually the problem. I wanted him in every way possible, no matter how much it pained me afterwards. But he didn't want me, not really. He needed me, that's true, but in the same way he needed his broom to fly. I was nothing more than an object, a toy in his eyes, one that he kept playing with every day, every second. And I was stupid enough to let him.

Why did he keep doing this? Why would he waste his time in a relationship with a girl he didn't even like? I refused to ask, mostly because I was too much of a coward to accept the truth. I already knew what the answer would've been - why he seemed to desperate to attach himself to me. I was a facade, helping him keep up the impression that he was not completely alone.

Even if he actually was.

All those 'friends' he kept around most of the time were just as real as our relationship, they would've never stood up for him, not if their lives depended on it. Sometimes I wondered if they were even paid to play the role of his little minions in front of the entire school. After all, the fact that the Malfoys were used to throw around with money for their own benefit was no secret. And if that was the case, they should've been ashamed of lowering themselves to such an extent, but as much as it sucked to admit it out loud, our situations were not that different. Maybe they got money of this whole fiasco, but didn't I also get some sort of payment? Weren't Draco's touch, Draco's lips, the drug that kept me going?

There were moment when I asked myself - why couldn't he just care about me? I was not that ugly, I guess, and even if my personality wasn't the best, nor was I the brightest, I still had so much to give. Or, so I thought... Especially since I knew how lonely he was, I just couldn't understand how, despite having me right beside him, with my heart on my sleeve, he chose to surround himself with all these mutt heads who didn't give a damn about anything concerning him.

I tried to tell him that I was there, for him, right from the start. I did everything I could to make him show me some sort of interest. I even managed to get inside his precious 'gang', copying them as best as I could, just for him, even if it meant making fun of other students and losing myself in the process.

However, it was all in vain.

He was too lost, too captive in his own little world to see what was happening around. The only times when he seemed alive were when he was picking up all those useless fight. I never understood why he seemed so interested in them. At least, not right away.

It was during our 4th year when I got a glimpse of the reality that was going to shatter me completely. It didn't last more than one second, but it was enough to bring light to my unspoken dilemma. He only had to raise his head from the pile of books we had been assigned to read for out next class, his gaze falling in the Griffindor table, to give me all the information I refused to believe. Because he wasn't just staring in the distance, I could see that clearly enough from my seat. His eyes were focused on a single figure, a shy smile appearing in the corner of his mouth. A smile so sincere, so warm, so very different from his usual smirks and grind the use it almost made me want to throw up. But not as much as it did figuring out who was responsible for his reaction.

It had been her. Granger. The filthy know-it-all that everybody adored. Well, everyone except me, of course. And the worst part was that I knew the reason why he stared at her like that. It was because of the Yule Ball. Everybody was focused on that stupid event, even most of the Slytherins. That doesn't mean that I wasn't excited, far from it, but I was still waiting for Draco to ask me to go with him. Something he simply forgot to do, this being what I tried to convince myself.

But in that moment, with the answer on the plate, right in front of me, I just couldn't take it.

Several minutes passed. Words were exchanged around me. I could hear every single discussion in the room from the place where I standed, Griffindor's included. Their talks were boring, lacking any sort of appeal, roaming around the fact that both Potter and Weasel were too stupid to get any dates for the ball. The mudblood wasn't even part of the conversation.

Any normal person would've already gotten back to whatever the people around them talked about, but I found myself listening attentively to their discussion. I've never been one to ignore a chance of a new subject of gossip, it was a fact known by my whole house - something I often found quite interesting.

Draco was standing right in front of me, a letter from his father in his hands this time. His eyes were on the piece of parchment, hardened for an unknown reason, but something about the stiffness of his shoulders made me question the fact that Lucius' words were the reason behind this reaction.

When Weasel insulted Granger like the obvious 'gentleman' he was, I'm sure the satisfactory grin that took over my features betrayed my little spying activity. I looked in Draco's direction to share a laugh at the expense of the famous Golden Trio, as we always did, only to find a trace of a frown across his face.

The next thing I know, Granger's loud voice echoes in the room, totally losing her calm before standing up from the table and making a huge fuss out of it, saying something about already having a partner. She stormed out of the room soon after.

If I had any remaining doubts about Draco's possible infatuation with her, they were all wiped out by the disappointing look in his eyes. That was all I needed to know. The reaction was too accurate, too perfectly timed to be anything else. He liked her. I had no idea when that madness started, but there was no denying it anymore. He was attracted to a mudblood.

And that didn't make any sense. He was the one that kept insulting her with every chance he got. What was the deal with all this then? If he liked her, why would he try to hard to make her feel miserable? Was he simply that desperate to get her attention?

Only a few hours later I finally figured out that he did this out of pride. It made sense, I guess. She was below his lever, impure, undeserving of him. Of course he was ashamed of that. You can never chose who you are attracted to, and he did everything in his power to hide. Maybe he hadn't even meant to ask her to the ball, just thought about it at a certain point, knowing well enough that there was no chance that he would've dirtied his image showing up with someone like her.

Or, maybe, I had taken too much out of a simple smile, no matter how genuine it had been. And that gaze, it could've been just passing, right?

Nothing seemed clear anymore.

The next day, when he came to me and asked me to be his date, despite saying yes, I tried to ignore the bitter taste that erupted in my mouth.

I went with the flow, telling myself that the whole scene had been just a part of my imagination, that Draco actually wanted me there. But, when the night finally came, and I greeted him in the dress I worked so hard to find, he just nodded in my direction and took my hand, only to join the others. I can't say that it surprised me, I knew he wasn't one to throw compliments around, but that doesn't mean that I wasn't disappointed. I stood close to him for minutes, waiting for him to say something. He didn't. Instead, Draco looked around, laughing with Crabbe and Goyle about some of the Griffindor's outfits, which were, indeed, spectacular in their lack of sense of fashion. I joined them too, of course, since I had nothing better to do, but for the rest of the night, Draco seemed to remember the fact that I existed only when it felt convenient to him, like the moment when everyone was forced to dance. And even then, he put his hand on my waist, his other hand in mine and urged me to move my feet, but in his eyes there was no flicker of emotion. Nothing. As if none of this interested him. He didn't even look into my eyes during the whole fiasco, instead he kept gazing over my shoulder at nothing in particular.

At least, that was what I originally thought.

At a certain moment during the forth or the fifth dance, he stopped moving completely, his posture as rigid as a statue, eyes fixed somewhere behind me. Out of curiosity, I threw a glance over my shoulder thinking that it must've been something embarrassing that he was going to talk and laugh about later that day. At first, I didn't see anything of interest. Nobody slipped. Nobody was making a scene. Nobody was acting unusually dumb. I wanted to open my mouth to ask Draco about what distracted, but my words got stuck in my throat when I saw her. And I understood everything.

She was there, all wrapped up in a pixie-like dress, all smiling and enjoying herself with the Krum guy, as if they were the only two people in the world. I had idea how someone like her managed to get someone like Krum to come with her. However, as I saw more and more of her, I had to accept a fact that angered me more than anything. Looking like that, all carefree and full of life, she was indeed beautiful. Compared to her, in that moment, I looked like a piece of ham, not even a human being. She was also smart, and her personality... Let's just say that I was aware that I wasn't actually a sweetheart.

That was when I realized that I couldn't blame him for being frustrated with himself because of her. Despite being a mudblood. Despite being Potter's number one fan.

Of course this whole exchange lasted only a few seconds, just like the one that I saw days before. Yet it was more than I could handle. I had no chance of having him smile at me the same way he smiled at her from afar - lips curled, cheeks slightly redder, eyes even lighter.

After all this, none of us had any intention of dancing anymore. We sat down in one of the corners of the room, both too caught up in our own inner struggles to even talk.

Half an hour later, he left without saying a word.

Days passed and I never brought up the subject, even thought the subtle glances in her direction never stopped. I caught him every few classes. And, with every second in which his attention was focuser on her, I could feel my heart breaking even more.

I thought that out fifth year would change something. I thought that he would finally forget about her. He didn't.

By the end of autumn, after a long Potions class with Snape, I found myself being dragged along one of the corridors that lead to the dungeons and forcefully pushed against the nearest wall, my lips attacked before I even had the chance to comprehend what was happening. I stood right there, just like a statue, too confused to even think or act according to the situation I was in. And when my fucked up mind finally registered that the lips that touched my own were his, it was too late.

He had already yanked himself from my body by that time, leaving in a blur just as fast as he came.

Of course, that was only the beginning.

In the days that followed, this whole charade turned out to happen more and more often. Always out of the blue and always stepping back far too soon, without an explanation.

However, I came to see what all of this meant after a while - that none of of his kisses had anything to do with me. The more he did it, the clearer it became. I wasn't that stupid, I knew what those feeling-less, forced actions were, and who they were supposed to be shared with. Everything he did was because of her and, when this brutal lip-to-lip contact - since it couldn't actually be called anything but that - became insufficient compared to his delirious hunger for contact, he changed his tactics. The less than affectionate pressure of him lips on mine slowly turned into a storm of touches and teeth, all followed by the same, never-ending pattern of coldness.

I had no idea what went through his head during all these acts, I was too much of a fool to even ask. So, when he forced me on my knees and made me take him in my mouth, I had no other choice than to let him.

I allowed him to use me again, and again, and again, trying to ignore the fact that every single time I managed to get a moan out of his beautiful, parted lips, it was never my name the one he whispered. Just hers. Always.

I had no pride left, no self respect, no clear judgement. Just a shell, that was all I represented, all I was able to show the world.

He broke me. Shattered me. Turned me to pieces.

And somehow, I am glad he did it.

Because, by breaking me, he was able to keep himself together.


End file.
